


Kumo no Kyōiku

by Hydra_Chord



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Character Death, F/M, M/M, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker has a Quirk, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Tags May Change, U.A. is a University (My Hero Academia)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hydra_Chord/pseuds/Hydra_Chord
Summary: Peter Parker is four when he is orphaned. He is almost five when he gets a quirk(finally!).He is four when he moved in with his Aunt May and Uncle Ben.Peter Parker is twelve when he is orphaned for a second time. He is twelve when he moves to Japan and meets his estranged family.He is fourteen when he loses his quirk.
Relationships: Hatsume Mei & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Hatsume Mei, Peter Parker/Hatsume Mei
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! I don't really know how many people are going to read this, but hey, we're here. I decided to write this because I didn't see anyone else doing it. This is one of my first times actually posting something of my writing, so please leave feedback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize in advance for any cultural inaccuracies(I got most of the stuff from Google). I wanted to show a diverse world with the characters, so if you notice anything wrong, please let me know.

The night air was crisp and cool as a lone figure walked down the sidewalk. They were pretty unremarkable, wearing a hoodie with the hood up and some jeans; easily forgettable if you passed them, which few people did at this time of night. Leaves were quietly crunching under their heels as they made their way through the suburbs of Forest Hill, the fallen foliage almost seeming to be afraid of shattering the agitated air of silence the person carried before finally relenting. The figure walked under a street lamp, and stopped. They leaned against the lamppost and took deep breaths as their head turned towards the blinding lights of the buildings in downtown New York only a subway ride away. Then, they ran a hand through their covered hair and dropped their hood.

Their brown eyes shone with frustration and guilt as they tugged on their matching hair a bit. The face of the now revealed prepubescent boy scrunched up as he let out a sigh and released his hair. His hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out a battered smart-phone, unlocking it quickly before he took a look at his most recent messages, pushing up his beat-up glasses as they began to slide down his nose.

**Aunt May** : Peter, we're sorry, but we're just worried about you.

 **Ben Diagram** : We're just tryin to look out for ya, bud.

 **Peter Peter Pumpkin Peter** : I know. I'm sorry for blowing up like that. Love you guys.

 **Aunt May** : Love you too.

 **Ben Diagram** : Love you too, pal.

That was the end of their conversation thus far, and Peter felt calm enough to talk to them without yelling. He knew that he shouldn't have done that, but at that moment he wasn't thinking of the consequences. Once he realized what had happened, he had gone out of the house to cool off, sending them a text when he was almost out of their little corner of the neighborhood so they'd know he was safe.

Peter shook his head, letting out a sigh as he pushed off the lamppost, cursing his short temper. It had been getting worse recently, with the anniversary of his parent's death coming around. Combine that with the incessant teasing and bullying at school, and that let to an incredibly short fuse. He'd been blowing up at those close to him, and he felt terrible for it. He began to pick up the pace, his feet pounding against the sidewalk while he tried to escape his feelings.

The rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement and his heavy breathing created a minimalistic background track for the symphony of feelings within his body. Guilt, anger, regret and a number of other feelings that he couldn't identify swirled in his chest as he made his way back home. He was angry, because he hadn't kept a hold of his anger like his therapist had coached him through. He barely kept track of where he was, the feelings swirling within his chest taking priority. Besides, he knew this entire neighborhood like the back of his hand: he trusted his subconscious to get him where he needed to be.

He was momentarily distracted by each car that passed by them, giving them a half-hearted wave as their headlights passed by him, his thoughts on more important matters. His legs were starting to burn and he was panting heavily, but a weird feeling spurred him on just a bit longer. Tonight he had run much more than he normally did in P.E, and it was starting to register in his mind. He finally stopped, the matters of the body taking priority over the matters of the heart. He rested his hands on the back of his head, just like they were taught in class to help the air flow. After a few minutes, he was able to get his breathing back down to a more normal level. He stood up and began to look around to figure out how far away from home he was.

The twelve year old was by the new research institute that had just opened about a year ago. He looked at the sign that read _Binary Research and Development: Auxiliary Laboratories._ The young boy and his uncle had gone there multiple times, mainly whenever the older man had a day off from work. Sometimes Peter went by himself, with Aunt May's permission. Everyone working there knew of the brown-haired seventh grader with a passion for science and heroics.

Sometimes the staff there would cook up little projects for Peter to do, or even help him with his own projects. Right now he was working on trying to work on a grenade that would flash freeze an area within an adjustable radius, allowing heroes to capture villains easier or allow police officers an easier way to breach heavily locked doors without a quirk. He did this all under the supervision of the staff at Binary Labs, especially Doctor Heinrich Bierman, who was one of the chief chemical engineers working at the labs.

Peter stopped for a second, bringing himself out of his thoughts, seeing where he was. He was only a street or two down from his house, and he was hearing sirens. That much wasn't too unusual; it was New York. There were sirens all over the large city, even within the fairly nice suburbs that he lived in. He sighed, bracing himself for the incoming lecture that was sure to come from Aunt May. Then, Uncle Ben would sit him down and then they'd talk about how he was feeling and what led up to the 'breakdown' that he had had. It was sure to help him, but that didn't mean he liked being confronted like that. 

He kept getting closer and noted that the sirens were getting louder. He frowned, inhaling slowly, hoping that their neighbor Mr. Guang Cao didn't get robbed again. It had already happened twice this month. Mr. Cao was nice, and let Peter try out some of his projects on him, because Peter made some things specifically for his quirk. He was also teaching Peter some Chinese culture and some of the language, and he liked the young scientist to call him Cao-xiānshēng while they were spending time together. That was a little hard to say, so when he was around other people he called the old man Mr. Cao. He began to pick up the pace, wondering if he needed to give up his bed again to the man. 

Peter's eyes widened as he saw two police cruisers in front of _his house._ His heart stopped. His whole body just... _froze_. 

His breath hitched before he broke out into a run. Tears began to well up, but he refused to let them fall. A pit began to form in his chest as his throat closed up. He got closer, and he could see a small group of people gathering outside of his house, bathing in the flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers. They had cut their sirens off, and Peter ran faster. Everyone had to be alright. They had to be. 

He was there now. He saw Mr. Cao come forward with a sad look on his wrinkled face, standing with Ms. Robin Brown, who was another neighbor. She taught kindergarteners, and there were tears streaming down her face. They began to talk to him, but he couldn't hear anything but the ringing in his ears. He blinked a few times, then pushed past them to look at his house. There was a hole in the wall leading to their living room, with debris strewn all over their front lawn. Their living room was trashed, to put it simply. It felt as if everything was in slow motion as he walked inside the house, not noticing the police officers behind him herding the rest of the neighbors back. The pit sunk deeper into his stomach, and his glasses began to fog up. He touched his face , and _oh..._ he was crying. He kept moving deeper into the house, feeling broken glass crunch underfoot.

All of a sudden the noise came rushing back as he wandered into the kitchen. There was blood splattered all over the kitchen counter where he did his homework and watched Aunt May cook. A strangled noise his his ears and it took him a moment to realize that the noise was coming from him. He moved around the count to find a thing draped in a white sheet. Red was staining the white and he picked the edge of the sheet before immediately dropping it. That was a body. _That was his aunt's body._ **_That was his Aunt May lying on the kitchen floor,_ _dead. MAY WAS DEAD._**

A loud keening sound filled the air and Peter dropped to his knees. It took him a moment to realize that the horrible heart-wrenching sounds were coming from him. He just cried harder, mourning for his aunt. She was the closest thing to a mother that he had, and now she was _gone._

There would be no more late night snacks made because he'd stayed up too late learning new things. There would be no more family dinners where Peter helped her cook. There would be no more stories of when his parents were alive. No more stories of how goofy her and Uncle Ben were when they were young. _Oh god UNCLE BEN!_ Peter shot up, stumbling through the house, screaming for his uncle, for his _dad_. He at least had to be ok, right? Uncle Ben couldn't leave him too. He had to be ok.

Uncle Ben still had to teach him so many things. He still hadn't taught him how to fix Dad's watch. Ben could've done it with his quirk, but Peter wanted to learn manually. They still had to go on their fishing trip in a couple days. They still had so much to do. Peter's mind was racing as he sprinted through the house, the carnage of the rest of the house barely registering in his mind. He had to find Ben. 

The young boy was yanked back from going upstairs, the force causing his glasses to fly off onto the ground. He screamed, struggling against the powerful arms that held him. He couldn't feel the snot bubbling from his nose before it ran down his face, nor the tears that flowed down his cheeks. The only thing he could feel was the arms holding him back from his uncle. 

The next thing he knew there was a poof of silvery mist in his vision, and all he could smell was something vaguely metallic. It reminded him of space and the moon, for some odd reason. 

The feeling of strong arms and thoughts of space were the last things that went through his mind before he went unconscious. 


	2. Chapter 2

I'm not happy where this story has turned out, but I do want to tell it, so I will be rewriting it at some point in the future. Thank you!


End file.
